


I Want, You Need

by clasch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, More like Purgaytory amirite ladies, Pet Names, Purgatory, again kind of, jealous!Benny, kind of, not really sure how to tag this, smut and feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23136835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clasch/pseuds/clasch
Summary: “Benny,” Dean hisses in the darkness. “Water.”Sure enough, Benny can hear a faint rushing sound to the north. He represses a sigh. Water. Benny knows what that means. That means Castiel might be nearby and that means they’re looking for that damn angel again. “Dean,” Benny starts. We’re wasting our time, he wants to say. We can’t pop the angel outta this hell box anyway. But it’s a lost cause and Benny knows it. Dean’ll just fix him with that ice-cold stare and say something like:“He’s all I got, Benny. I’m not leavin’ without him.”Yeah. Something like that.
Relationships: Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 44





	I Want, You Need

**Author's Note:**

> Friends, Romans, countrymen! I have resurrected (and by resurrected I mean completely redone) this piece from my 2013 fanfiction.net hell days because the end is nigh and I still have feelings about Purgatory. About Dean and Benny in Purgatory. About Dean and Benny perhaps not being careful enough about keeping watch because they are otherwise occupied in Purgatory. Enjoy.

***

“Benny,” Dean hisses in the darkness. “Water.”

Sure enough, Benny can hear a faint rushing sound to the north. He represses a sigh. Water. Benny knows what that means. That means Castiel might be nearby and _that_ means they’re looking for that damn angel again. “Dean,” Benny starts. _We’re wasting our time,_ he wants to say. _We can’t pop the angel outta this hell box anyway._ But it’s a lost cause and Benny knows it. Dean’ll just fix him with that ice-cold stare and say something like:

“He’s all I got, Benny. I’m not leavin’ without him.”

Yeah. Something like that. Which isn’t quite true anymore, but Benny lets it slide. He’s always intrigued by the ice in Dean’s voice when he talks about the angel. Dean’s anger runs hot in a fight. He’s all fire, blood boiling under his skin, gaze scorching. But when Benny tries to make him see sense about the angel, Dean’s glare is cold enough that it would have made Benny shiver if he were alive.

“Help me or not,” Dean continues, “but the longer I stay here, the higher my chances of getting dead. And if I die, you can forget about ever getting your ass out.”

The argument never changes because Benny hates to admit that Dean’s right. In all Benny’s time here, there’s never been another human because this place just isn’t where humans go.

Dean just shrugs and turns to head north, maybe toward the angel, maybe not. Benny’s pretty sure they’ll be chasing their tails forever, the way the search is going. The angel just doesn’t want to be found.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Benny adjusts his grip on his blade and follows the soft sounds of Dean’s footsteps. “Y’know, Dean,” he says when he catches up to Dean. “I’m beginning to think you and this Castiel are a little closer than you’re letting on.”

Dean doesn’t respond and quickens his pace. Benny almost chuckles at the tense set of Dean’s shoulders. He’s testing Dean, seeing how far he can push the man’s buttons about the angel. It’s been weeks since they formed their tenuous alliance, weeks of cold fury and terse exchanges. Benny has tried to convince the man it’s futile, but Dean has refused to hear it. _The angel is coming with me,_ he says every time. The angel. Dean never says the angel’s name when they’re interrogating monsters about the river or the clearing, never says the angel’s name when he argues with Benny. Benny wouldn’t know the angel’s name if he hadn’t caught Dean praying to him. More than once. Every night, in fact. At first, his prayers were gentle, but the last few nights were tense, desperate. _Cas, please, man. I won’t leave you in here. I can’t leave without… Just get your feathery ass over here and we can go h - we can get out. Please._ He paused, looked over his shoulder like he expected the angel to appear, but he didn’t. Then, _Cas, come on. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, man._ He waited. Then simply, _Damn it, Castiel._

It’s been a slow day. Just a pair of werewolves and a shifter, who peeled a wide strip of skin right down the middle of his own face to reveal Dean’s mouth stretched in a feral grin. None of them knew anything about the angel though, so Dean made quick work of them with the silver knife he dropped in with, efficient stabs through the heart.

“Dean,” Benny drawls, noting how Dean’s chin twitches toward him without actually looking over his shoulder. “There aren’t many monsters here.” When Benny dropped in, he took to roaming, mapping the place out, but most of the monsters stick around where they showed up. They don’t like to explore. Some of the nastier ones do, sure, and Benny’s glad they hadn’t come across any Leviathan, but this patch of Purgatory is mostly empty, or was until Dean.

But Dean keeps walking, cocking his head slightly to catch the sound of rushing water. “Dean,” Benny repeats.

Dean stops suddenly and whirls around to face him, angling his blade up. “I just need to find the damn angel and get the fuck out of here. The only reason you’re still standing is because you claim to know where the escape hatch is.”

“And here I thought you were beginnin’ to like me,” Benny responds, quirking his lips into a half-smile as Dean rolls his eyes and turns back toward the sound of the water, louder now. They walk in silence until they reach the bank of the river. No sign of the angel in either direction or on the opposite bank. Benny can practically see the muscles of Dean’s back vibrating with tension, wanting to slump in defeat, but stiffening with frustration instead. “You know, you’re not doin’ your friend Cas any favors like this.” Benny says.

“Like what?” Dean snaps, not turning to face him.

“You need to relax, brother.” Benny peers at Dean in the dim light, appreciating, not for the first time, the line of the man’s jaw, his strong shoulders, the curve of his hip.

Dean barks out a laugh. It sounds painful. “Relax. You want me to _relax._ ”

“At least wash up,” Benny says, wrinkling his nose. “You smell like dead monster.”

“You’re probably just smelling yourself,” Dean scoffs. “You are dead monster.”

Benny smiles at that. It’s the first almost-joke Dean has cracked this whole time. But Dean continues as if nothing happened, “And if something attacks when I’m bare-assed?”

“What, you don’t trust me to watch your bare ass?” Benny asks with mock indignation. He looks Dean up and down, gaze roaming slowly over the ass in question. It’s shameless, but it’s been too long since his last roll in the hay, and Benny could do with a little relief beyond his own hand in his pants at the edge of a clearing while Dean passes a fitful few hours sleeping. It’s not Benny’s fault that the man is striking. Pretty, really, with his delicate nose and lush pink lips.

As if Dean can feel Benny’s eyes on him, he turns and glares, a grim expression fixed on his face. “Me smelling like dead monster is better for our cover,” he says finally.

“It ain’t like you’ll be smellin’ like a daisy after a dunk in the river.” Dean rolls his eyes at that. “And besides, they’re not trackin’ us by scent, not exactly. I’ll keep watch,” Benny continues, giving Dean another onceover.

That grim expression on Dean’s face stays right where it is for a long moment, but he finally lets out a breath and inclines his head. “You sure we’re clear?”

Benny can tell the man’s desperate to be clean. Even _kind of_ clean. Every night before he prays, Dean sends Benny off to establish a perimeter around their camp and strips down to beat as much dirt out of his clothes as he can. The few times they found a pool of standing water, Dean nearly cracked a smile and relished in rinsing the muck from his hair. “When can you ever be sure about something in here?” Benny counters.

Dean regards him for another moment, then shrugs. “Guess you’re right about that.” He leans his blade against a tree, then shucks off his jacket and his overshirt and slings them over a nearby branch. “Eyes to yourself.”

“No promises, pretty boy.”

Benny is watching him closely, so he sees Dean’s eyes widen slightly, hears his heartbeat spike. Interesting. Then, he’s right back to his grim self and rolls his eyes. Dean strips off his shirt, lays it over the clothes on the branch. Benny admires how Dean’s back flexes as he rips another branch from the tree and makes quick work of the twigs and leaves before beating his shirts with it. For a while, there’s only the quiet rushing of the river and the rhythmic thwack of the branch against Dean’s clothes. “Enjoyin’ the show?” Dean asks suddenly, gruff voice loud as he looks over his shoulder at Benny, who is still watching.

A slow, lecherous smile spreads across Benny’s face. “Best seat in the house.”

Dean huffs an almost laugh. “Whatever.” Apparently satisfied with his handiwork, he scoops his shirt up and gives it a onceover, shaking out the last of the dirt, then does the same with his overshirt before placing them carefully back over the branch. He moves as if to unbuckle his belt, then fixes Benny with an inscrutable stare. “You mind?”

“Not a bit.”

“Fuck off,” Dean says, but there’s not much venom in his voice.

It’s Benny’s turn to roll his eyes then, but he turns his back to Dean and stalks off into the trees. “Enough privacy for you, princess?” Benny hears the clink of Dean’s buckle, the thunk of his boots as they’re toed off, the rasp of his jeans being pushed down his thighs.

“This isn’t exactly my ideal bath, but it’ll do so long as I don’t get attacked in the nude,” Dean shoots back. The rhythmic thwacking resumes. Benny assumes he’s working on his jeans now.

The arousal that’s been buzzing dully through Benny’s body since Dean stripped off his shirt buzzes a little louder at that thought. Dean in the nude, waist-deep in the river. Dean, his muscular arms pumping as he strokes him under the water, his face screwing up with pleasure as he bites his lip to keep from making too much noise. Benny can’t help himself, leans his forehead against the trunk of a tree, palming himself roughly through his trousers.

There's a quiet splash from behind him. “ _Fuck,_ it’s cold,” Dean hisses.

Benny smirks as he imagines his flesh prickling from the cold, nipples pebbling. “Sorry, _princess,_ we’re all outta hot.”

Dean scoffs, then hisses again as he submerges himself fully. Benny can hear the splash as he resurfaces, so he chances a look around the tree and sees Dean run his hands through his wet hair in the dim light. There aren’t any stars in Purgatory, but it doesn’t ever get completely dark at night either. He admires the smooth planes of Dean’s back, the muscles undulating as Dean washes himself. Benny slips his hand into his trousers. It’s dry, but he loves the rough friction as he takes himself in hand.

It doesn’t take long for Benny to get fully hard. But it also doesn’t take long for Dean to finish up and step out of the river, as excited as he was to bathe. Benny watches, gaze zeroing in between Dean’s legs as he shakes off as much water as he can before reaching for his t-shirt to towel off. Dean grabs his boxers from the branch with the rest of his clothes. “Benny?” he calls, peering into the trees.

Benny reluctantly pulls his hand from his trousers, missing the contact immediately. “I’m here,” he answers, adjusting himself before stepping out from behind the tree.

Dean doesn’t startle, but it’s a near thing. Benny sees a muscle twitch in his shoulder. He scoffs at Benny and turns around to slip his boxers on. “Give a guy some warning, why don’t you?” He reaches for his jeans and pulls them on. He’s just doing up the button as Benny advances.

All Benny can see is Dean. He wants Dean. He _needs_ him. Benny’s overwhelmed with desire. It’s buzzing, pulsing. He’s humming with it. “Dean.”

And maybe Dean can hear the danger in his voice because he reaches for his blade next instead of his belt. “Hm,” Dean says noncommittally, even as his shoulders tense. He turns to face Benny, keeping his grip on his blade relaxed.

“You're going to tell me something now, Dean.” Benny’s still advancing on Dean, getting close enough that Dean can surely feel Benny’s breath on his cheek.

“Am I?” Dean retorts, but Benny hears the spike in his heartbeat.

Benny reaches out before Dean can heft his blade, pinning him against the tree by the wrist. He chuckles at Dean’s involuntary intake of breath. Dean is taller than him, and strong, but Benny is broader and he’s got vampire juice. He leans in close enough to Dean’s neck that Benny can see his pulse jump. “Does this turn you on?” he breathes against Dean.

Dean shivers when Benny’s heated breath hits his skin chilled from the river. His pulse jumps again. Benny can feel it in Dean’s wrist, can see it at Dean’s throat, can _smell_ the rushing blood, tantalizingly close. He leans even closer, lips ghosting over Dean’s ear. “Well, cher?”

“Shouldn’t you be keeping watch?” Dean says quietly, but his voice cracks anyway.

Benny latches onto his earlobe, sucking lightly at the freshly-washed skin, fangs itching to extend. When he lets go, Dean whimpers. Dean Winchester whimpers. It takes everything in Benny’s power not to roll his hips against Dean’s, not to haul him around and yank off those damn jeans. He can smell the arousal in the air. “Do you want me to be keepin’ watch, cher?” Benny says, voice low.

There’s a tense moment where neither of them breathe and then Dean mutters something under his breath. Benny catches Dean’s earlobe between his teeth. “What was that?” he asks sweetly as he releases the tender flesh.

Dean sucks in a breath. “No.”

And that’s it for Benny. He cups Dean through his pants with his free hand, thumb skimming over the bulge there. “‘No’ what, Dean?”

He grits his teeth to contain another whimper, but doesn’t say anything. “Shall I get my fangs out?” Benny asks, crowding even closer. His arm is trapped between them now and Benny can feel the heat from Dean’s bare chest now as he licks the shell of Dean’s ear.

“No, I don’t want you to keep watch,” Dean says in a rush, flushing. Even in the dim light, Benny can see the gorgeous blush spreading to the tips of Dean’s ears.

“I didn’t think so, cher.” Benny squeezes him through his jeans. Dean drops his blade to the side and slides a tentative hand up Benny’s arm to his shoulder, the other hand still pinned above his head. “You like this, don’t you, Dean?” Benny says mouthing at the soft patch of skin under Dean’s ear where he can _just_ feel the upper edge of Dean’s jaw.

When Dean doesn’t respond, Benny tightens his grip on Dean’s wrist and the positively alluring bulge in his jeans. Dean groans. “Oh, you like to play games, Dean? How’s this for a game?” Benny bites lightly at Dean’s jaw and all the way down his neck to a nipple, bending at an awkward angle to keep his hold on Dean’s arm. He takes the nipple in his mouth, barely containing a grunt at the sound of Dean’s pulse picking up, and worries it between his teeth ever so gently.

Dean’s breath is coming in pants now and Benny looks up at him to see that he’s thrown his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. Benny’s mouth waters at the sight of his exposed throat, pulse visibly jumping under his skin. He can’t help himself. Benny bites down on Dean’s nipple. Hard. “Just a tip,” he says, releasing Dean’s wrist and watching as his arm drops limply to his side. “Might want to keep your chin tucked around a vampire. Even a dead one will be _tempted._ ”

“ _Shit,_ ” Dean lets out in a huff, bright green eyes fluttering open. Everything in Purgatory is muted. Everything except, apparently, Dean. The tantalizing smell of him, the color of his eyes. His _humanity._ He’s positively glowing with it, vitality, _life._ That’s how the monsters have been tracking them, but Benny can’t bring himself to stop.

Benny traces the length of him through his jeans, teasing now. “You didn’t answer my question, cher.”

“Yeah,” Dean starts, but it turns into a groan as Benny digs in with his nails. “ _Yes,_ I like it. I like it,” he hisses, eyes falling closed again.

“Well, that’s good to hear, Dean,” Benny says running both hands up Dean’s sides, tracing the lines of his ribs as Dean inhales sharply. “I can make you feel good, _real_ good, if you’ll let me. What d’you say?” He rakes his fingers back down and grabs at Dean’s hips, watching his face closely.

Dean lets out his breath with a small sound at the back of his throat, bites his lip. Benny doesn’t think the boy has ever begged for sex in his life, not with his good looks. Well. That’s going to change.

“Yes,” Dean says quietly, carefully keeping his eyes closed so as not to look at Benny.

Benny raises an eyebrow that Dean can’t see. “Yes, _what?_ ”

“ _Please,_ ” he chokes out.

Satisfied, Benny smiles, a truly lecherous smile, but Dean’s eyes are still closed and he doesn’t see it spreading across Benny’s face. “Good boy.” With that, Benny slides his hands over the smooth flesh of Dean’s stomach to undo the button of his jeans and ease them off Dean’s hips, letting them fall to pool at Dean’s ankles. He’s gotten thinner, Benny notices. Not that that’s too surprising given how little not-lethal-to-humans food there is here. But Benny shelves that thought quickly, because it’s a little too close to _caring,_ though it’s not that he _doesn’t,_ but - he hooks his thumbs into Dean’s briefs instead, stroking the ridges of his hip bones. Benny looks appreciatively at the bulge he caused. “Good boy,” he repeats, moving one hand to wrap around the fabric-covered length tenderly. “You haven’t gotten off at all since you got here, ain’t that right, cher?” Benny asks, running his hand up and down and up and down.

Dean swallows and Benny tracks the movement of his Adam’s apple. “No.”

“Been too busy tearin’ after your angel friend, is that it? Tell me, Dean,” Benny says, swiping his thumb over the tiny wet spot spreading on Dean’s briefs. “Has he ever done anything like this for you?” He’s trying to push Dean now because Benny wants answers, wants more than “I’m not leaving without him.” Well. He wants answers _and_ he wants release, in whatever order they come. Pun intended.

Dean’s head drops to his chest and he shakes it. _There it is,_ Benny thinks. “But you want him to, don’t you, Dean?” he asks, knowing the answer when Dean bucks his hips up ever so slightly and bites off a moan. “Tell you what, cher, I don’t care whose name you call out when I make you come.” It’s not quite true, but Benny puts the sting that comes with his own words on the shelf next to his almost-worry about Dean getting too thin.

“Please,” Dean murmurs, shuddering against the tree. “ _Please._ ”

“What do you want, Dean?” Benny asks, voice gravely and low, hips twitching towards Dean. The begging is nearly too much. He pulls the hand still thumbing Dean’s hipbone out of Dean’s briefs and adjusts himself through his trousers.

“Touch,” Dean whispers.

“I _am_ touchin’, Dean,” Benny says, not letting his voice shake with arousal, and scrapes a blunt nail over that wet spot.

The effect is immediate. Dean lets out a full-bodied moan. “ _Touch_ me, angel, _please,_ ” he begs, screwing his eyes shut even tighter.

He’s so beautiful, spread out for Benny against that tree, pretty flush spreading across his heaving chest, hot and hard against Benny’s hand even through the thin fabric. _It doesn’t matter who he thinks is touching him,_ Benny tells himself, because it almost doesn’t. He slides his hands back into Dean’s briefs, slipping around his hips to cup the curve of his ass, not able to help himself from running a finger lower, just over his -

“ _Oh,_ ” Dean grunts out, hips jerking toward Benny. He buries his face in Benny’s shoulder then, biting at the rough fabric of Benny’s almost definitely filthy coat to muffle his cries as Benny rubs over and around Dean’s entrance.

Benny hums his approval, but tears himself away because if he doesn’t get those damn briefs off _now,_ he might die. Again. He swallows at the quiet slap of Dean’s dick against his stomach as Benny pulls the offending article down carefully. Benny would love to tear them off _with his teeth,_ but he knows Dean got dropped in with just the clothes on his back and whatever was in his pockets, so he doesn’t. Another time, maybe, when they get out of here. Damn, there’s that caring again. He runs the barest tip of a finger along Dean’s length instead of thinking about that anymore. “Not much of a princess now, are you, cher? You like it dirty, out in the open.” Benny nudges Dean back against the tree with one hand so he can see. “You plan on corruptin’ your angel?”

Dean groans at that and bucks his hips. “ _Yes,_ ” he hisses. “My angel.”

“Lookin’ like you’d rather be his Dean, hm?” Benny wraps his hand around Dean and strokes from base to tip in one fluid movement. _Finally._ “You want your angel to take control and _fuck you,_ don’t you, Dean?” he whispers, staring down at the sight of his hand on Dean before leaning in close to lick the shell of his ear again. “Is that what you want?”

Dean thrusts helplessly into Benny’s hand. “Yes, _yours,_ angel,” he breathes, seeking more of that rough friction. “I want - _please,_ I - _fuck._ ”

Benny strokes faster, giving Dean what he wants, hard himself, but right now he just needs to see Dean’s face contort and his body writhe as he comes. “Does this feel good, Dean?”

When Dean doesn’t answer immediately, just trembles and pants, Benny grabs Dean by the hair with his other hand to pull Dean’s head back, baring his neck. Benny licks his lips at the sight. “Answer me, Dean. _Now._ ”

Dean cries out at that and Dean’s dick _pulses_ in his hand and goddamn if that isn’t the hottest thing Benny’s ever seen. “Yes, it feels so - _more,_ I need -” Dean babbles.

“I know what you need, cher,” Benny tells him. He lets go of Dean’s hair and spits into his palm, then reaches between them to take Dean in hand again, stroking faster now. Benny can’t take it anymore. He’s aching, fit to burst, so Benny reaches inside his trousers and matches the pace on himself.

For a long moment, the only sounds on the riverbank are the little pants Dean lets out as Benny twists his wrist, the slick rasp of flesh on flesh. The quiet rushing of the water. Dean groans and thrusts into the tight circle of Benny’s fist when he swipes a thumb over the tip of Dean’s dick to collect the moisture beading there. “Faster,” Dean cries out. “Faster, _please_ \- I need…”

Benny complies, matching the pace with both hands. He’s close, so close. Benny _needs,_ too, but he wants Dean to come first even as he feels himself hurtling towards the edge.

Then suddenly Dean leans forward and buries his face in Benny’s shoulder again, breath huffing against Benny’s neck. He lets out a long, low moan. Now the angle is awkward, but Benny persists, feeling Dean’s thrusts becoming erratic. And Dean _bites_ down on the junction of Benny’s neck and shoulder and moans again and Benny thinks, _if this is how I die again, so be it,_ because he’s seeing stars now, fists flying along both of them.

“I’m - oh, _yes,_ I’m - fuck - _Cas_ -”

Dean’s body goes stiff, so Benny strokes him faster, forcing him on.

And he comes. Benny feels Dean spurt on his wrist as he keeps stroking and Dean groans, louder when Benny doesn’t stop touching him. He’s shaking. They’re both shaking. Benny lets go.

Benny bites down on his lip _hard_ to contain his moan, too focused on his own pleasure now to notice that he’s still stroking Dean, who wrenches away to brace himself on the tree behind him, gasping for breath. He pulls his hand from his trousers carefully, lifts the other to his mouth, watching Dean watch him through half-lidded eyes as he licks Dean’s come from his skin. “See if your angel friend ever does that for you,” Benny says gruffly, not jealous, of course. No reason to be. “I’ll circle around. Looks like you might need some rest after that, cher.” He walks over to the river, crouching to rinse his hands. When he stands again, Dean’s still looking at him, dazed.

“Feel free to return the favor some time, Dean,” Benny tosses back over his shoulder as he goes to check the surrounding trees for unwelcome guests so Dean can get his few hours sleep before their search for the angel begins again. “Feel free.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/good-things-do-happen-dean


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